The Good and the Devil
by MQ1
Summary: She is good. He is better.


**The Good and the Devil**

_By: Minniequill_

* * *

**Author's notes: **A short one-shot that came into my head when I was brainstorming ideas for 'An Unexpected Alliance.' I thought I'd put it up to see what other people think as it is completely different to my usual style of writing. It's set after Harry's second year.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Harry Potter.

* * *

Lucius hasn't escaped from the first war with the Dark Lord unscathed. He lost money, friends, associates, social standing... but he hasn't lost the skills that made him such a good Death Eater.

The first time he notices he is being shadowed is a Wednesday. He is walking home from the Ministry where he'd met with Cornelius Fudge. The man is a fool and Lucius knows that he will soon be among the social elite soon after the Dobby fiasco. The thought cheers him and he almost misses the blur of movement in the corner of his eye.

Almost.

He turns around and scans the crowd, catching a glimpse of his follower. She is a woman, that much he can tell, but beyond that nothing.

She is good, but then again, so is he.

* * *

The second time he notices he is being followed is the following week. He is walking the same route, hoping to catch whoever it is out. Oddly enough, it is her sleek movements, those of someone accustomed to stealth that give her away. He smiles to himself as she turns the corner, out of his line of vision.

She is good. He is better.

* * *

The third time he sees her, he admits that her skills rival his. He is tired after another long day at the Ministry, another long day of admitting that he was wrong to follow the Dark Lord. This, he tells himself, is why he doesn't realise that the door to his study has been left ajar.

"Lucius Malfoy."

He starts and looks into the pitch blackness. He reaches for his wand but she laughs and he is unable to stop his wand from flying out of his hand. He can imagine her smirking, even though he doesn't know what she looks like.

"What is it you want?" he asks, moving toward his desk where he keeps a second wand.

She laughs again. "Now, now, Lucius," she taunts. "Don't be silly. I checked your desk."

He has to give her credit; checking the desk was a smart move.

"What do you want?" he asks, standing in the middle of the room.

His eyes are adjusting to the dark light and he can make out the slim figure of a woman. She sits on the small sofa with her legs cross and an arm lying casually against the back. She is wearing muggle clothing, what they call 'jeans' and a shirt.

"I want to know, Lucius," she said, tilting her head slightly to the side. "Just how much of Voldemort's school things you possess. You see, the diary, the one that you gave to Ginny Weasley, that came from you. I highly doubt that's all you have."

Lucius stiffens. The woman is well-informed.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he denies, knowing that she knows he is lying.

She laughs and rises to her feet. "Whatever you say, Lucius," she mocks.

"Who are you?" he asks as he watches her approach. He tenses his thigh muscles, ready to spring and she laughs again.

"I don't think so, Lucius," she taunts.

He hears a muttered incantation and his world dissolves into black.

When he wakes, he is alone and his two wands rest, crossed together, on his desk. She has written him a note.

'_Til next time, Lucius._

* * *

He doesn't see her the fourth time she contacts him.

Instead she writes him a letter.

He takes the seemingly innocuous piece of parchment from the owl – a handsome, black specimen – and unfurls it carefully.

_I'm watching you, Lucius­ – _she writes in careful script – _leave Hagrid and his hippogriff alone._

Raising his eyebrows, he laughs. She is good – but should realise that a handwritten note would not stop him from tormenting the half-giant.

He would not spare Hagrid and his hippogriff; not when there was so much amusement to be gained.

* * *

The fifth time she waits for him at the Ministry and pulls him into an unused office as he passes. He struggles but she uses his own body weight against him and pushes him against the wall, one hand pressed against the back of his neck, pinning his cheek against the plaster wall, whilst the other relieves him of his wand.

He hears his wand clatter on the ground and realises she has thrown it over his shoulder when she grabs his arm and twists it upward, causing pain to shoot through him.

"You're quite pathetic," she hisses into his ear. "Picking on Hagrid. Have you really sunk that low, Lucius? I remember you from the first war with Voldemort."

"You were there?"

"Shh," she breathes. "Don't interrupt me. You could fight against two, sometimes three of the Light side and still win."

"There isn't a war on," he reminds her.

"Not yet," she said, moving closer.

He can feel her breath against his neck and starts as she releases his neck to run her fingers through his hair.

"I went through your basement," she says even more softly. "You had some quite interesting items."

"Had?" Lucius says, a wave of panic moving through him. He knew the Dark Lord would rise again, and he had some precious items stored in that basement.

He can almost see her smirking. "Oh, yes, Lucius. _Had._"

She runs her hands through his hair again and touches his cheek lightly. He can tell she is wearing gloves – leather from the texture – but this contact makes him realise that this woman fascinates him.

And he wants her.

He hears a soft incantation and feels himself slide down the wall. As before, he is alone when he wakes. He recollects himself and goes home.

When Narcissa asks how he got the bruises on his arm; he doesn't answer.

* * *

The final time he is asleep when she arrives and he wakes with her wand pressed hard against his neck as he lies in bed. Narcissa is out on some sort of charity event, and told him she would be back late. He finds himself not caring that his wife was not here and that this woman was.

She was far more interesting – far more deadly.

"You've been a naughty boy, Lucius," she says, pressing her wand tip even harder against his neck until he thinks his skin might tear.

"Have I?" he says sarcastically.

"Yes," she answers. "You had some interesting items in your basement, but your Gringott's vault was far better."

"How did you get in there?" he demands, trying to sit up.

She pushes him back down.

"Never you mind," she says, sitting on the edge of his bed.

But he does mind. He has precious items in his vault; some of which _were_ the Dark Lord's possessions. He wonders how she got in there; the goblins were not known for cooperating with wizards and had no time for bribery.

"I collected some interesting items," she says. "Very interesting."

Her voice is hypnotic and he lunges forward, wanting to grab her, take her, make that voice change. His fingers wrap around her waist and she strikes out, hitting him hard over the eye. He falls back but she hasn't finished and slaps him across the cheek.

"_Don't_ try that again," she snarls.

He nods and she exhales deeply.

"Good boy, Lucius."

She leans forward and he realises that she is straddling him. His breath hitches and he wants nothing more than to pull her down, but knows that she would kill him if he tried.

He admits it – he is good but she is better – he is no match.

"I have a warning... and a recommendation," she says, stroking his forehead.

Her fingers are cold and he shivers.

"My warning is not to get involved with Voldemort again."

"The Dark Lord is defeated," he reminds her.

She laughs and runs and traces her finger over his face, lingering briefly at the bruise she has made above his eye.

"Let's not insult both yours and mine intelligences," she whispers. "You and I both know he will rise again."

He says nothing, his silence speaking volumes.

"My recommendation is to join the Light Side... you're good, Lucius and would be an asset."

It is Lucius's turn to laugh.

"You think I'm joking?" she queries.

"Aren't you?" Lucius challenges.

"No," she says. "We need people like you, like me... intelligent, cunning and manipulative."

She is right; he is all those things, and for the first time he considers changing sides. The thought is immediately suppressed.

"A pity, Lucius," she says, as if she can read his thoughts.

He finds himself hating the disappointment in her voice. She shifts and the pressure on the mattress changes and he realises that she has stood up. She walks across the room and opens the door. He sees her silhouette and wants to call out when she disappears. He hears her footsteps against the wooden floors of his manor and leaps to his feet, grabbing his wand.

She is half-way down the corridor when he bursts out of his bedroom and turns when he calls out. He lights the tip of his wand, hoping to catch a glimpse of her. The beam reaches her neck before she disappears.

She has apparated away.

He slams his fist against the wall, not caring that his knuckles bleed.

Narcissa asks no questions when she arrives home to find him sitting on the edge of his bed, nursing his hand.

* * *

Lucius has not seen her again, and knows he never will.

That doesn't stop him looking every time he walks home.

* * *

**Author's notes: **I know it's weird, but I've never written about Lucius Malfoy and I find him fascinating hence this fic was born. I would really appreciate reviews for this one as I am thinking of writing some other stories with this style

Please review.

_Minniequill_


End file.
